


The Demons Winchester

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-18
Updated: 2008-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if?  What if John and Mary were possessed?  What would Dean and Sam be?  How evil would Demon Winchesters be?  Several nights before their wedding, John and Mary are taken by a pair of demon lovers.  The next few years are much the same as canon...until their demon master comes looking for them, and takes Mary, sending John and the boys on the run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demons Winchester

Prologue

Sulfur and brimstone gave way to the sweet air of freedom in a rush. He threw himself gladly into the night air, into the world he hadn’t known in centuries, heady with the scent of life…and more than that…lust.

He couldn’t believe his luck, moving swiftly through the air, his mate writhing around him as they moved swiftly toward it…the sticky heat of coupling…a beacon of sin just awaiting their arrival…warm, mortal bodies ripe for the occupation.

The vehicle rocked with the rhythm as the man rutted wildly, madly…passion and need and danger. The cracked window was the last bit of invitation he needed. They swarmed into the car, filling the steamy confines with darkness, filling the needy bodies with fire.

His body was tight, firm, strong…and it never stopped fucking into her, not even as he pushed the consciousness down, held it under. He growled through his new mouth, with his new voice and bit down on her breasts, marking the milk white skin.

Her eyes opened, the inky black of his companion filling them, swallowing the woman whole. Their bodies climaxed even as the people within them lost the battle to retain them. He threw back his head, roaring in victory.

“We did it.” His voice was gruff, deep. She squeezed her legs around him. “My love, we did it.”

She grinned, tossing her sweaty blond hair. “Mary. This one is named Mary.”

He reached inside for the presence within, sorting through memories and knowledge. “John. John Winchester. And you, Mary are going to be my wife in two days.”

“But I couldn’t wait anymore for you to fuck me.” She pushed hands through his hair, then pulled him down to kiss.

“Good thing, or we’d still be out there looking for bodies to inhabit.” He kissed her then, exploring the taste of her on this tongue, the feeling of her under him, around him. He was still inside her, his cock stirring.

There was a flash of lights, the crunch of tires on gravel. He squinted, then reluctantly pulled out. “Cover up. We’ve got company.”

He tucked in and climbed over the seat behind the wheel. Before the cop could approach, he had the engine started and was pulling away. An hour later, he held the door for her. “Remember, we lay low. Azazel won’t give up easily.”

She stood on tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. He won’t find us.”

He watched her go, hips moving to her own rhythm as she walked up the stairs and into the apartment building.

Two days later they suffered through a church wedding and headed off to Las Vegas for their honeymoon…a week filled with every kind of debauchery they could manage in mortal form.

Which, he was pleased to discover, was pretty damn debauched.

It wasn’t until a few months later that he learned the cost of that debauchery.

“I’m pregnant,” she announced without preamble, as if she was telling him what was for dinner. “You fucking got me pregnant.”

Six months later, he was a father, and the boy was certainly a chip off the old block. His eyes were inky black and it took more than milk to satisfy the kid, right from the start.

He’d never really contemplated it before…the idea of fatherhood…but he liked the things it did to Mary’s body, the way it filled out her ass and breasts. Apparently John did too, judging by the near constant state of arousal through the pregnancy.

There were those who would say that demons weren’t capable of love, but he knew better. Centuries he’d loved her. Would love her. And there, in that mortal body, as she pushed his son into the world, he loved her more.

Perhaps part of that was the love of the people they occupied, but he chose to ignore them.

The second time it wasn’t nearly as much of a surprise. It wasn’t as if they took precautions.

He would never have seen what was coming though. What the birth of his second son would herald. Four years they’d lived and breathed as John and Mary Winchester with hardly a whisper of their master finding them.

He was vigilant at first. But over time that vigilance fell to boredom and he gave in to his baser needs. Nothing major, of course. Little tricks. Infesting the cars he worked on with various nasties. Bringing Mary home presents of pretty things that didn’t always come willingly.

She had become maternal…in a demon-from-hell sort of way. Protective and fierce. She slipped onto his lap in front of the television. “That boy of yours is going to ruin my breasts.” She opened her shirt to show him the bloody bite marks.

“He thinks you taste good.” He licked over the bloody nipples. “Mmmm…you do.”

She rolled her eyes. “You Winchester men.”

His whiskers trailed over her skin, up to her neck. “I’m going to fill you up with an army of babies…we’ll raise them up and use them to take back what’s ours.”

“He might have something to say about that.” She said it softly, concerned now.

He shook his head. “He hasn’t shown any interest so far.”

Her head quirked to the side. “Dean, I thought I told you to go to bed.”

“There’s a man in the dark.”

Mary rose and smiled at the boy. “There’s no man.”

“He was in my room.”

“Want me to--?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got this.”

“I’ll be up in a minute. I want to watch humanity rip itself apart a little more.”

The news never failed to cheer him up. Murder. Mayhem. People treating each other like monsters. Sex and violence. Music to his ears.

He heard her take Dean in to say goodnight to the baby. Heard her pad down the hall, his little feet making almost no sound as she took him back to his room. It shouldn’t bring him as much joy as it did. He smiled and turned back to the television.

It was a little while later that he heard Sam cry. He started to get up, but heard her already moving toward the nursery. It wasn’t until he heard her scream that he lurched up and flew up the stairs.

There was fire, burning, purging fire. Sam was crying louder now. In the midst of the flames she looked down at him. Her stomach dripped blood, the fire licked at her hair, Her eyes filled with black. She was fighting, but when He turned, when his eyes glowed yellow, he knew it was a lost cause.

“Did you think you could hide forever?”

Dean’s voice was behind him. Sam was crying and Azazel stood between him and his son. Mary’s voice, marked by his mate’s burning demise screamed his name…not John…but the name he hadn’t spoken in four years. With her last ounce of strength, she pushed herself off the ceiling, launched herself at her executioner.

He reached past the flames and scooped the infant up in his arms, turning and thrusting the screaming, bloody-faced infant into the chubby arms of his older son. “Take your brother outside Dean. As fast as you can.”

He turned to throw himself at Azazel, to save her…but they were both gone and the fire licked at the curtains and carpet and he ran. She had sacrificed herself, fought until his fire consumed her and depleted him and that gave him, and their children, a chance to disappear.

***

Those first years were filled with running and hiding and lashing out angrily at things that reminded him of everything he’d lost, or those who had taken them from him. When Dean was seven, he cleaned out a nest of vampires just to work the edge off his anger. When Sam was five, he sent two pedophile priests on a one way ticket to hell just for fun.

By the time the boys were teenagers, they’d become thieves and hunters, knew how to take out most demons, most half-breeds like werewolves and vampires…knew how to stay alive and free of hell. They also knew a fair bit of demon lore, their history. They knew they weren’t strictly human, that they were special. Above the rules set out for mortals.

They walked between the worlds, taking what they wanted and protecting each other. Most people didn’t really know they were there. Hunters were a little different. They saw the world differently…and part of that was noticing the little Winchester clan.

John managed to stay on the ambiguous side, tossing a hunter a bone here and there, trading magic and muscle for a look the other way, for the doubt. That got a little harder as Dean got older. The boy had a mean streak. It reminded John of his mother.

He watched Dean stalk the girl, watched him toy with her, pull her into the alley and take her, hard and dirty in a pile of garbage behind a Chinese grocery, raking his nails down her back to release the scent of her blood to the air before licking it up.

John was there when the boy came, pulled him off the girl and fell on her himself, snapping her neck as he finished. “Never leave them breathing once you’ve bloodied them, boy.”

Dean stood there defiantly, her blood on his face, his chest heaving. John felt his cock flood again. He stood, shoved Dean into the wall, his mouth closing over Dean’s, licking at the blood. For a minute Dean resisted, pushing back at him, holding his jaw tight…then John’s hand closed on his dick and it was like pressing a button.

Dean’s mouth opened, his body went slack. John growled possessively, wrapping one meaty hand over both of their cocks, rubbing them together. Dean hissed through his teeth, pressed his fingers into John’s shoulder. He gasped when John tightened his grasp, when he squeezed and pulled and Dean yelled as he came again, the heat of his come splashing over John’s cock and it was enough to have him coming again too.

Of course, that was only a beginning. John’s appetite grew after that, because after all the boy was painfully pretty, and it was only days before he was shoving Dean’s face into the mattress of whatever filthy motel they found and pushing into him. Only days before he caught Dean doing the same thing to Sam.

Only Sam didn’t take it as easily as Dean. He pushed back, he struggled…not to end it or to get away, but to get the upper hand. He used his hands and feet and magic and for a moment John wasn’t sure if they were fighting or fucking. Dean eventually won that round…but it was obvious it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Sam was shooting up, already almost as tall as his brother, and strong…and while Dean had a mean streak, Sam was just plain mean. He had the sexual appetite of a grown man by the time he was fourteen. He’d watch as John fucked Dean, jerking himself until John was done, then leaping on his brother himself.

He liked to inflict pain, almost as much as Dean enjoyed getting hurt…and when it wasn’t his brother, when he didn’t have to worry about his partner living through the experience? Well Sam was a goddamn artist, and that was before the kid was even sixteen.

Their lives were far from normal, no matter whose version of normal one ascribed too. And that was just fine with him. He’d never really liked living by the rules anyway.

***

There was, however, the small matter of their mortality. The boys were born to human bodies, though they weren’t human…strictly speaking…and come the advent of twenty-five years of living in said human body, they would each face a trial…one that would see them sent screaming off to hell to pay penance for their parents’ presumption or firmly and permanently seated in a body that would never age again…never die…by conventional means anyway.

All they had to do was pass the test.

It was complicated and difficult, a ritual written in a language that even demons didn’t speak anymore…with blood to be sacrificed and physical pain to be endured…marks to be made in the flesh.

No one had managed it in over a thousand years.

They started preparing Dean when he was twenty-two. He would be alone when the time came, and he would have to have the words memorized, the ritual had to come as easy as water rolling off his back.

There was a collection of items needed. Some were easy. Ritual knives and bowls. A chalice once hallowed and de-sanctified, to be filled with holy water. A Seal of Dameron, which had many uses, none of them anything short of dark and dangerous. In this case it would put the final seal on the ritual, binding spirit and body forever. Every aspect of the day would be controlled and planned. From midnight to midnight, culminating in his boy becoming something he himself never could.

All they had to do was gather the pieces and get him there.

John Winchester stood in the doorway surveying the room, his eyes settling on the booth in the far corner. The dirty baseball cap and beard were all he needed to see to know that this was the man he’d come to meet.

He knew that Bobby Singer didn’t really like him. He knew that most of the hunters in the bar felt the same. He didn’t really care.

There was an uneasy acceptance of him and his boys, because the Winchesters got shit done. Things that even hunters couldn’t. And, they weren’t afraid to take on the big bad things.

For a price. 

John moved into the room, noticing with no small amount of pride the way whispers circled around him, fingers pointing. He slid into the booth and Bobby looked up, around them.

The whispers stopped. If Bobby Singer had business with John Winchester, it had to be bad. Ugly. No one in the room would question that.

John waited. This was Singer’s call. He’d been surprised by the message, but intrigued. Of all of them, Bobby Singer maybe had most cause to know what, exactly, John and his boys were. 

They’d crossed paths enough.

After a long silence, Singer dropped a leather pouch on the table. “What, no drink first?” John asked, waving at the waitress. 

“Not here to entertain you Winchester.” 

“Not looking without a drink. Whiskey. Bring the bottle.”

They sat in silence until the waitress brought the bottle and two glasses. John poured two shots and lifted his. The other man just looked at him. “I don’t do business with a man that won’t drink with me.” John said, then downed his shot.

Bobby sighed and lifted the glass, slamming the shot back. “Satisfied?”

John smiled and nodded, pouring himself another shot before reaching for the pouch. He loosened the ties and dumped the contents on the table. It fell with a thud, a sound that seemed to silence the room. “Seal of Dameron? Ain’t seen one in a long time.”

“Rumor is you’ve been looking for one.”

John downed the shot. “Maybe. Hard to find.”

There was a noise at the door and a ripple through the room. John didn’t need to look to realize that his boys had gotten bored waiting for him. Bobby’s eyes darted to them and watched for a moment, then flicked back to John.

“Isn’t cheap either. You interested?”

John glanced over his shoulder at his boys. Dean was feeding money into the jukebox. Sam was watching John, his green eyes dark and dangerous. 

“What’s it gonna cost me?” John asked, dragging his eyes back to the relic on the table. He had a line on another one, but truthfully, they’d need a second in a few years, so he didn’t mind haggling.

“Got a job.” Bobby said. He lifted a folder and dropped it on the table. “Can’t do it alone.”

***

Sam surveyed the room with a cool eye, aware of his father in the corner and his brother at the jukebox. He could feel the response of the people…the hunters. They were wary of his father, but the appearance of the two brothers made them uneasy.

Sam liked the way that made him feel. It was arousing. Powerful.

He adjusted himself, then moved toward where Dean was still looking through the music on the jukebox. He positioned himself behind Dean and leaned over him, pressing himself against his body, running his hands up over his legs. 

It was blatant and crude, and Dean pushed back into him, grinding his ass against Sam’s erection right there for everyone to see. Sam hissed and slid one hand in front of Dean, cupping his cock and fondling him to hardness.

“Dad’s gonna get pissed.” Dean said softly, not denying Sam, not pulling away.

“Let him.” Sam responded, though he eased back a little. He was more than happy to make the people uncomfortable and risk a tongue lashing, but not really ready for the beating that could happen if his father really got angry.

Dean chuckled and straightened up. “You say that now.”

Sam leaned in close, whispering in Dean’s ear. “Want to bend you over right here in front of everyone and fuck your ass.” Sam’s hand slipped into the pocket of Dean’s jeans, pulling him tight up to Sam.

“Boys!” 

Their father’s voice rang out around them and Sam released his brother. He was on his way out the front door and they both followed without a word. Once outside John whapped Sam upside the head. 

“Ow!” Sam ducked away, behind Dean. 

“What have I told you?” John shook his head. “Never mind. Here.” He shoved a leather pouch into Sam’s hand. “Take this. Put it with the rest of the stuff for your brother’s ritual.”

Dean watched Sam tuck it in his pocket. “What is it?”

“Seal of Dameron. You two head on back to the room.”

“What about you?”

“Got a hunt, something Singer needs help with.”

Sam curled a hand around the back of Dean’s neck possessively. “Don’t like him. Watch your back.”

John grinned wickedly, and pulled Sam to him, kissing him deep before releasing him. “Always do boy. You make sure your brother takes care of business before you two get all depraved.”

“Too late for that.” Sam said with a grin. His hand tightened on Dean’s neck and they turned for the car. “How about I drop you off to take care of business and I go get us some food?” Sam asked as they headed out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, good. But no more of those nasty burritos, dude. I’m tired of Mexican.”

***

Dean Winchester was well aware of how the hunting community saw the Winchesters. Their father was the cunning one, competent and efficient, never took a job he couldn’t finish…even if no one was ever sure exactly how he got it done. Sam was the scary one, unpredictable, volatile…something was very not right with the youngest Winchester the whispers said.

Dean, however, was the quiet one. They almost looked at him with pity in their eyes. They saw him as the one caught in the middle, the one who did as he was told, the one who was the least dangerous of the three.

Dean smiled as he let himself into the room and moved to the portal. He murmured the words and the door opened. He stepped through, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. 

The room he stepped into was miles from the motel they were currently crashing in and underground in a bunker that was soundproof and hidden and secured with magic.

The girl had learned. She didn’t cry, didn’t speak. She just looked at him dully, her hands curling over the swollen expanse of her stomach. Dean smiled proudly. “That’s my good girl.”

She shivered at the sound of his voice. He pulled her bowl off the ground and crossed to the locked cabinet. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Chains rattled and when Dean turned, she was on her knees, her nakedness exposed and waiting. “I guess you are.” He set the bowl on the table and unzipped his jeans. His cock hardened as he moved behind her. This was the routine, she accepted his cock, and she got to eat. She didn’t accept it and he took her anyway and left her hungry.

It wasn’t pleasure, although he’d be lying if he said he got no pleasure from it. This was business. The kind of business that would ensure he lived past his twenty-fifth birthday. She’d been a virgin when his father brought her to him, drawn the fertility symbols on her skin and offered her up to Dean. He’d held her while Dean took her, impregnating her on the first go. 

Every night after, was assurance, subjugation, domination. In a few weeks, she’d give birth to his son, and Dean would have no further need of her. The boy, on the other hand, would be a part of the ritual that would seal him in this body, keep him from a one way ticket to hell.

She shuddered as he sank into her, but she was past fighting. She probably knew she would be dead soon. Sam told her often enough. Sadistic bastard. Dean moved fast, fucked her hard and filled her, before standing and zipping himself back up. Her stomach almost touched the ground now. It wouldn’t be long. 

He put her food on the floor in front of her, dry granola and filled her water bowl. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stepped back through the portal, not surprised to find his brother there, and not alone. There was a pizza on the table, and a half naked man on the bed. Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam grinned. He was halfway to undressed himself.

Dean glanced at the dazed man on the bed. Okay, so maybe Sam was half way to re-dressed. “What? You couldn’t wait?”

“Figured I’d get some while you were busy.” Sam said. “No worries, there’s plenty more.”

Dean crossed to the pizza and grabbed a slice, turning to watch the man as he slowly came aware of his surroundings. 

“What?”

He wasn’t going anywhere. Sam had him tied down, wrists secured to the head board, ankles to the legs of the bed. His ass was turned up with pillows tucked under him. Sam’s come was oozing from his ass. Dean knew from experience that the man knew he’d been fucked. Sam never was gentle about it.

Dean swallowed his pizza and crossed to the bed. “He’s a pretty one, Sammy.”

The man was in his early twenties, dark hair, dark eyes, a dusting of facial hair. “Take it easy, sir. My brother here, he’s a pro with rope. If you try to get loose, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“What? Where am I?” He blinked, tried to look up at Sam. “You…”

Sam grinned. “Me. Shouldn’t take drinks from strangers.” Sam moved closer to the bed, ran his hand over the upturned ass. “You’re pretty tight.” Sam stuck a finger in and the man tried to pull away. He pulled the finger out and held it out to Dean, coated in come. 

Dean licked at it, then sucked the finger into his mouth. The man just stared. “Bet he won’t be in a few hours,” he said when he let the finger go.

“I’m going to scream.”

Dean stood, smirking. “Go ahead. Sam likes it when you scream. No one’s going to hear you anyway.”

“You two are insane.”

Sam leaned down close to his ear. “No, we’re demons. There is a difference.”

Sam laughed and pulled Dean to him. His kiss was bruising, his teeth mean against Dean’s lip. He didn’t pull back until he tasted blood. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Get him naked.”

Dean smirked. “I don’t know, I kind of like the naughty boy with his jeans around his knees look.”

Sam growled. “Naked. I’m hungry.”

Dean sighed and watched him go. “Okay, I guess it’s naked then.” He pulled a knife from his boot and crossed to the bed. “Not your lucky night.” He set about cutting the man’s clothes off of him. He wasn’t going to be needing them anymore anyway. If Sam was hungry, there wouldn’t be much left come morning anyway.

“You gotta let me go.”

Dean stopped cutting and cocked his head at the guy. “Once Sammy’s had you, you belong to Sammy. You’re not going anywhere. Relax, you might even enjoy it.”

The man shivered. “I’m not…I don’t do guys…I…I’ll scream…”

Dean patted his shoulder. “Sam likes it when you scream. I already told you that.” He went back to cutting the shirt loose. Then he moved to the jeans, pausing to run a hand over the upturned ass. “He didn’t even use lube, did he?” He chuckled. “That’s Sam for you. Impatient.”

“Please, just let me go.” 

Dean finished off the jeans and tossed them aside. He set the knife down by the pizza box and grabbed at a bag on the floor. He fished around in it until he came up with a sizeable butt plug. He held it up, then went back to the bed. “This should help loosen you up.” He shoved it in with no lube but Sam’s come and patted the guy’s ass. “You got a name?” 

The guy just stared at him. Dean poked him. “Name.”

“Martin. Martin.” He shuddered as Dean’s hand stroked over his ass again.

“Well, Marty, I’m Dean. The other guy is my brother Sam. My father will show up eventually, though I imagine by then you’ll be pretty out of it. Let me explain to you what’s going to happen.” 

Dean’s hand slipped down between Marty’s legs, caressing over his cock. “We’re going to fuck you. Repeatedly. We’re going to cut you and lick up the blood. We’ll feed you drugs, cause the buzz we get after is awesome.” 

“You’re insane. Fucking insane.”

“Like Sam said, we’re demons. There’s a world of difference. The insane don’t know what they’re doing or why they’re doing it. We do.” He pulled on Marty’s cock and despite everything it started to harden. “That’s a good boy Marty. Enjoy it.” 

Of course, even if Dean got him hard, Marty wasn’t going to be enjoying the time between now and when Sam eventually bled him dry. Not that it mattered to Dean. It meant that Sam’d save the harder stuff for Marty here, and maybe Dean wouldn’t need the recovery time.

Dean left Marty with his ass plugged and still begging Dean to let him go and went to fetch more toys to play with. Sam was hungry, and that meant knives. He got the kit and took it to the nightstand, unrolling the leather bundle to reveal a collection of finely bladed instruments. 

He picked up one and turned to Marty. He was shaking with fear. Probably meant his cock had gone soft. “Ever had someone cut you, Marty?” He turned the blade so that it caught the little bit of light. “Blade like this, you won’t even feel it at first. Slices through the skin like it’s not even there. But then, when you’re open and bleeding, the fear oozing out with your blood…and the air touches you…then you’ll feel it. And when I press my mouth over it and lick it…you’ll know it.”

Sam emerged from the bathroom then, naked and hard, his hair slicked back, his body glistening with wet from his shower. He tilted his head and eyed Marty up. “Have you been getting him ready for our little party?”

Dean held up the knife. “Want first taste?”

Sam’s eyes lit up like Christmas, his little boy smile sly and fake shy. “Make him bleed for me Dean…just a little…wanna taste his fear…”

Dean’s hand skated over Marty’s exposed back, ghosting over the skin, picking out a place that would bleed nice, but not cause too much damage. The cut was small, an inch maybe an inch and a half…just over the right shoulder blade. Shallow. Bloody. 

Sam sniffed the air as he moved closer, and his mouth was open as he put one knee on the bed. “Smell that Dean? Can you smell how terrified he is?”

Dean loved the way he looked just then…his face just glowing with the lust and enthusiasm, his eyes dancing with sparkling light just before the inky black filled them. He sniffed over skin just starting to slick with fearful sweat, then his tongue caught the blood that had just begun to ooze over the sliced skin, up the length of the cut. His tongue curled back, into his mouth and his eyes rolled closed as he savored it. 

“Perfect.” He opened his eyes and went back for more, rising up and pulling Dean to him, offering his bloody tongue for Dean to suck into his mouth. Tongues slipped up and around, over and under, in and out until Sam pulled back, taking the knife. “Get naked. It’s time to party.”

***

Sam loved to watch Dean strip. It was nearly as much fun as tying him up and ripping his clothes off of him. Sam lapped at the blood, spread it over skin while Dean backed off and unzipped his jeans. He turned his back and bent over to pull them down, giving Sam a perfect view of his ass.

Sam groaned and petted over the guy’s ass. He was trembling, babbling. “If you can’t shut up, Dean here has gotten pretty good at cutting vocal chords without making you bleed out. Pretty painful though.”

Dean turned to look and Sam grinned. “He means it Marty, I’d stop yammering if I were you. Screaming he likes, the whining not so much.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Marty?” Dean shrugged, dropping the last of his clothes to the floor. “What did I tell you about names?”

Dean came back to the bed, lifting a different knife. “Well, we need to call him something…unless you’re planning on a quickie. Remember that girl in Dayton? Four days Sam. Four days and you called her ‘girl’.”

“Less complicated.”

Dean petted down Marty’s back before lifting the knife and slicing a companion cut into his shoulder. The smell was intoxicating. Fear. Shame. Dean’s finger delved into the cut and Marty screamed, thrashing in his bonds. Sam grinned and opened his mouth for the finger Dean offered him. 

“Want to watch you fuck him.” Sam said, pulling Dean in to bite at his lips. “Gonna paint you red while you fuck him.”

Dean handed the knife to Sam and bent to lick the trail of blood oozing out of the second cut, his cock hardening as he did. “You ready for me Marty? We’re going to have us some fun.”

Sam sat back and watched as Dean knelt on the bed behind the man and fucked the butt plug in and out a time or two before he pulled it out and tossed it aside. Sam was already thinking he wanted to see that massive dildo they’d gotten in San Francisco shoved into the guy’s ass.

But they had time for that. 

Dean was lining up now, leaning forward. Marty was keening, his face in the pillow. “Fuck, you weren’t lying Sam. He’s fucking tight.”

Sam traced over Marty’s back with the blade. “Ass virgin.” He made delicate little cuts over the skin, then set the knife aside, watching the blood rise to the surface as Dean started to fuck him. Sam lifted a hand, pressed it to bloody skin, rubbing, smearing blood down to his ass, pushing a rivulet of blood down and onto Dean’s cock as it emerged from him. 

His brother had a beautiful cock. Long and thick and responsive to the slightest stimulus. Sam lifted his hand, dripping with blood and pressed it to Dean’s chest, sliding it up his neck and onto his face. Dean licked at it as Sam finger painted his lips. By the time Marty was spent, they’d both be covered in it. 

Sam got up off the bed and moved behind Dean. He smeared blood over his own cock and shoved Dean forward before shoving himself up and into Dean. The bed groaned. Dean’s head fell back against Sam’s shoulder as he surrendered to Sam’s thrusting, letting Sam’s movement fuck him up into Marty.

It was just fucking hot when he did that. Made Sam’s whole body thrum with the power Dean just surrendered to him. Dean dragged a finger down Marty’s back and lifted it to Sam’s mouth. “Harder Sammy…harder.”

“I’ll give you harder Dean.” Sam pushed him forward and pressed him down, shoving his cock in deep and hard. Dean moaned, Marty was begging. Sam felt it when Dean’s orgasm started, his body stiffening pushing forward into Marty just a little more. Sam snapped his hips a few times more and followed him.

When Dean caught his breath and managed to get up, he was painted red from his nose all the way to his dick. Sam turned him and pushed him onto the bed next to Marty, licking his way up Dean’s skin.

He was laving over one nipple when he felt eyes. Marty was watching. Sam cocked his head to one side. “Marty, eh? You want a taste, Marty?” Sam bent his head and covered his tongue with blood before grabbing Marty’s face and kissing him, forcing his tongue past his lips. Marty struggled, but Sam didn’t let him go until he’d swallowed. “Better when it’s still hot.” Sam grinned as Marty sputtered and coughed, trying to pull away.

Dean was stretching for the nightstand, and came back with a bottle. “What’s your pleasure tonight Sammy?”

Sam sat back and grinned. “Make him buzz for me Dean.”

Dean opened the bottle and sorted through several pills before he found one he liked and turned to Marty. “Be a good boy now Marty and take your medicine.” He pushed the pill in and held his mouth shut until he’d swallowed. “One good buzz coming your way.”

Sam grinned down at him, then went back to licking him clean. “Gonna feel so good…”

Dean’s hand snaked up into Sam’s hair and pulled him up to kiss. “You feel good.”

Sam grabbed at Dean’s cock, squeezing until Dean gasped. “That good?” 

Dean’s eyes flared. Sam knew that look. Dean was just getting warmed up. Just the way Sam liked it.

***

John Winchester opened the door to the hotel room. Sam stirred, opened his eyes. He was curled tight around his brother. On the other bed was a bloody lump that he supposed had been a man at some point.

He dropped his bag on the floor and ran a hand through his hair. He was surprised when the lump groaned. He moved closer. The man’s body was a mess of cuts and welts and dried blood and come. Obviously the boys had been enjoying themselves. There were chunks of flesh missing from his ass and Sam’s 14 inch fake black plastic cock was sticking out of his ass.

He felt Sam’s eyes, though he didn’t move, keeping Dean pulled close. “Left him for you if you want him.” Sam said softly. 

John snorted. “He’s a mess.”

Sam nodded, his eyes dark. “He’ll be gone by morning.”

“I think I’ll pass. Gonna shower.” John put the leather bladder in his hands on the table. Its contents were precious, powerful. Maybe more important than the seal was. 

Sam buried his head in his brother’s neck and John headed for the bathroom. Singer hadn’t been kidding about the hunt. It had been bad…and this human body wasn’t as young as it once was. The demon had been old, powerful. It was opening a portal when they’d gotten there and they’d ended up taking down five in all before it was over. Two got away, but they were no real threat to John or his boys. Not like the big guy was. 

The bastard had taken one look at John and known who he really was. He didn’t think Singer had it figured out, but he was going to need watching for a while. Wouldn’t do for him to get any ideas.

John stripped out of his clothes and stepped in under the hot water. The room smelled of blood and sex, even with the door to the bathroom closed. It was arousing. He’d originally come back with the idea to shower and get them on the road. Now he was contemplating a little something more.

He stepped from the shower and dried off. He figured he better check on the girl, since it would be a day or so before they got back to her once they closed the portal. He pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed at the bladder and stepped through the portal. 

She sat up almost instantly, her eyes darting around, probably looking for Dean. Or making sure Sam wasn’t with him. “Just me, darling. Sorry.”

Her eyes dropped and John crossed to her, squatting down. “Not long now, eh?” His hand caressed over the round of her stomach, feeling for the child within. He could feel it, the blood of this human suit and the blood of his darker self all coiled up inside.

She looked like she wanted to cover herself, protect her unborn child, but they both knew it would only anger him. He lifted the bladder, opened the end. “To you this will probably taste like shit, but it’s for the baby. You will drink it.”

She nodded minutely and he lifted it to her mouth, pouring the dark liquid into her. She gagged and fought to swallow, finally succeeding. She was panting when John stood. “We might be a few days, so I’ll give you some extra food and water.” He did that, then headed back to the portal. 

She whimpered and he looked back. “It’ll all be over soon.” Not that that would be a comforting thought. For her anyway.

Back in the room, he put the bladder on the table again and stripped out of his jeans. He wasn’t sleeping with the bloody lump, so he crossed the other bed. It was barely big enough for the boys, but they were a close family. He grinned at the thought, his hands sliding over Dean’s bare skin as he moved them and climbed in beside them. 

Sam’s eyes opened again, dark and glittery over Dean’s shoulder. John leaned in to kiss him, his teeth pulling on Sam’s lip. Then his mouth descended onto Dean’s shoulder, biting into skin until Dean shifted, his eyes opening, questioning.

He didn’t say anything when John’s hard cock pressed into his thigh, just rolled until he was facing Sam, offering his ass for the taking. Sam’s hand slid along Dean’s hip, down onto his ass, lifting his leg to make room for John. Obviously Sam had already fucked him more than once recently…his ass was still sticky and loose.

John’s cock slid in easy and he rocked them together, pressing Dean into Sam. He wanted it to last, but with the stink of blood and death and sex in the room, and the thrill of the fight and Dean so pliant beneath him, he came fast, grunting and pulling Dean to him. He pushed at Sam. “Go clean up your mess. We’re leaving.”

 

They were a month or so from the big day. John pulled them in to Kansas for the wait. He liked the symbolism. This was where he’d come into the world. Where Kasha had given herself to keep him and the boys free. This would be the place where Dean came into his rightful power.

“Go check on your girl,” he said to Dean as they got out of the car in front of a small house. It had only taken John a day to find it and relocate the current residents. “I set up the portal in the back bedroom.”

Sam came around to help him unload the truck while Dean headed inside. “Time to inventory everything. No mistakes.” He thrust the small trunk of treasures into Sam’s hands and grabbed their bags.

With only a month, they had to make sure they had everything. No mistakes. Also meant they had to lay exceptionally low. Especially since killing the old demon, which reminded him. He went back to the truck and opened the passenger side door, pulling out the leather bladder. Once upon a time it had been a wineskin. Until someone figured out it was perfect for holding something else of greater value.

He followed Sam into the house and headed for the kitchen. “Set it all out on the table. I’ll get the list.” He shoved the bladder into the fridge and snagged a beer before fishing through his bag for his journal. 

Sam went about emptying the chest, arranging the items in order of need. Along the top of the table he set up the candles. Thirteen black, seven white, three red. Then came the items that would raise the power required, a small cast iron cauldron, various herbal bundles that Dean would have to prepare carefully, the chalice, once consecrated and used on the altar of a church in New York, defiled in various ways, not the least of which was when the three of them and come inside it the night they acquired it. Sam was a little more careful with the vial of holy water that followed the chalice.

That would be one of Dean’s trials. 

Sam kept pulling things from the chest then. The sacramental knife, forged in the fires of hell. Its blade was red and wicked sharp, the handle black. It would slice through nearly anything and the blade absorbed the blood, channeled it. The Seal of Dameron was next, safe in its leather pouch. There was the amulet for the baby…to mark it. Payment. 

The leather cuffs were last, one for each wrist, each upper arm, each thigh, each ankle. Brown leather made from the skin of a witch butchered in the glorious days of the Inquisition, they were mostly ceremonial from what John could tell, a sign of containing the spirit within the body.

He sat down at the table with his journal, running a finger over the list of things they needed. Most of what remained to gather needed to be fresh and could only be brought together in the week leading up to the ceremony.

“Tomorrow we start scouting for the sacrifice and the meal.” 

Sam nodded, snagging a chair himself. “How long does he have to be celibate again?”

John chuckled. None of the rest of it gave either of them pause, but the notion that Sam couldn’t touch his brother in the last three days was really chaffing. “Three days, you know that. If I have to, I’ll lock him up.”

“Right, cause you know I’d just let you.” Dean said as he came in from the living room. 

“We can’t fuck any of this up Dean. That bastard would love nothing more than to get his hands on you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a beer. “No one is fucking anything…up. Sam will be a good boy and keep his hands to himself.”

John stood, pushing his chair away and crowded Dean up against the refrigerator. “No sex, no booze, no contact with any living thing for three days, Dean. I will lock you in a closet if I have to.”

Dean held his defiance for a minute, then sagged. “Fine.”

“Fine.” John stepped aside and opened the fridge, pulling out the bladder and handing it to Dean, taking the beer away. “Drink this. Everyday from now until your fast.”

Dean popped it open and sniffed at it. “What is it?”

“Demon blood. Old demon, nearly as old as Azazel. It’ll increase your strength.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and tilted his head back, pouring in a stream of the dark blood. Both eyebrows raised when he lifted his head again. “Wow.”

John grinned. “I should warn you, it also increases other aspects of your personality.”

Dean handed the bladder back and shook his head. “That’s…wow.”

John chuckled. “You’ll get used to it. It’s not as potent as what Azazel fed Sam when he was a baby…but it’s good. It should help you deal with the trials. Just don’t drink too much at once.” He tucked it back in the fridge. “How’s the girl?”

“Getting close. He’s dropped and positioned. By the end of the week maybe.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want to cut it too close. Sam, clean up this stuff and secure the chest. I want to go out and find us some fun.”

***

Dean knew from the tone in his father’s voice that he was looking for something rough and rowdy, but not too much so. It would only get them more attention than they needed just then.

So, Dean was a little skeptical when they pulled into a bar that was known to cater to hunters and other anti-social sorts.

“You boys go on in. Get your old man a beer. I got a call to make.”

Dean got out of the car and headed for the door, already sizing up the vehicles in the parking lot. His whole body was buzzing with the demon blood…running through him like a drug. He felt wired and powerful and horny as all hell. There would be a young crowd inside, judging by the flashy cars. A handful of the more serious hunters, judging by the older model dusty cars in the shadows. 

He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he’d learned a long time ago not to cross the old man when he had something planned. It usually led to a beating…and not the good kind.

Sam was at his side as he reached the door, his hand dipping into Dean’s back pocket possessively. Normally, they only went into places like this when they were invited, like that thing with Singer, or when they were looking to throw a little bone to the hunting community. 

Dean pulled Sam along, feeling the eyes that tracked their movements, all the way to the bar. He smiled at the bartender, a pretty blonde with a killer smile and tits trying to bust loose of a torn t-shirt. 

“What’ll it be, handsome?”

“Three beers, and your number.” Dean said with a smirk. She winked at him and sashayed away to pour the beers. When she set them down on napkins, he noticed that one of the napkins had a phone number in black ink on it. He handed a beer to Sam and pocketed the napkin. He liked the invitation. Maybe she’d even live through the experience.

He turned and looked around them. He could pick out the hunters. They sat alone or in pairs, two by the back door. Two in the corner. Three scattered around the bar. They weren’t faces he knew, but he could smell them.

Sam was crowded up behind him, one hand cradling his beer, the other still in Dean’s back pocket. He was starting to get hyped up. He loved nights like this. He’d drink, fight, fuck…anything and everything until Dean dragged his ass home.

“This ain’t that kind of bar.” The voice was gruff.

Dean turned. The guy was big, not as tall as Sam, but broad, thick. “What kind of bar is that?” Dean asked, taking a sip from his beer.

“We don’t need none of your kind.”

Dean glanced up at Sam who shrugged. “My brother and I are just having a beer.”

“Brother?” It was clear the man didn’t believe him.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam. Oh, and here comes our father.” Dean lifted his father’s glass and held it out to him.

“Problem?” John asked, looking from the man to Dean.

Dean shrugged. “I was just making introductions. This guy says our kind isn’t welcome, that it isn’t that kind of bar.”

“What kind is that?”

“He didn’t say.”

They both turned to the guy who took a step back. “I don’t want any trouble.”

John smiled slow. “Neither do we.” He held up his beer in salute before draining half of it. “That has to be a new record, you boys haven’t been in here five minutes.”

Dean pushed back against Sam. “Well, if our boy here could keep his hands off me in public…”

“Wanna put more than my hands on you in public.” Sam growled in his ear. 

“Now, now…it’s a little early to be causing a ruckus. Settle down.” John waved down the bartender as he finished off his beer. “She’s cute.”

“Dean’s already tagged her.” Sam said, his hand slipping into Dean’s pocket and pulling out the napkin. 

Dean grabbed it away from him and shoved it in his pocket. “If I gotta be celibate for three whole days, you’re going to be damn sure I’m getting my fill before that.”

John chuckled and turned to look around the room. “I’m going to mingle.”

“Mingle?” Dean was trying to figure out his father’s angle.

He looked back at them. “Hunters. We have a little demon problem. I’m just…hiring an exterminator…or twenty.”

He leaned in close. “As soon as Azazel gets wind of what we’re going to try, he’s going to send them after us…why do all the work ourselves? I let it slip to a few key players that something big is going down and what the signs are…and we get the next few weeks to prepare without worrying about all that political shit.”

Dean nodded slowly. That made sense. Half the reason the ritual hadn’t been completed in centuries was because it was forbidden, by both sides. No demon wanted one of their own becoming that powerful. No human wanted it either.

He’d never really had a run in with Azazel, but he remembered the shape of him, the black man in the red haze of fire. The yellow eyes. He remembered that.

He blinked and his father was gone to mingle.

Damn but he was horny. “I want to fuck something,” he said to Sam. 

Sam nodded, his eyes skipping over the bar. “Boy or girl?”

Dean licked his lips and thought about it. He’d already had the girl. “Boy.”

“Young or old?”

“Young. Pretty.”

“How about that?” Dean followed his gaze to a tall, lanky kid near the juke box. It was obvious that he was trying too hard, baggy jeans and a zip up hoodie, hat on backwards, his nose and lip pierced. Trying to hide the pretty-boy features. His blond hair was died black, his eyes darkened with eyeliner. He was drinking a beer and trying to hit on every pretty girl that walked by.

“Oh, Sammy, you have a good eye.” 

Sam grabbed his beer, dropped something into it and handed it to Dean. “Go get him tiger.”

“You’re not coming?”

Sam smiled his predatory smile and shook his head. “Got my eye on something else.” His eyes flicked to the end of the bar and the hunter watching them. 

“You know Dad doesn’t want you fucking around with hunters.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Dean left him then, not even responding to that. He made for the kid at the jukebox. “Hey…I came in here with this girl, petite, brunette…got her a beer, but she seems to have disappeared. You seen her?”

The kid looked like he was going to blow Dean off. “No man…I ain’t seen no one like that. Was she hot?”

“Tits like melons, dude. Hey, you look like you’re out of beer. Want hers?”

For a second it looked like he was going to say no, but then he took it. “Thanks man. I’m a little tight.”

“I’ll bet.” Dean mumbled. He raised his own glass and drank down at least half the glass. The kid followed suit. Dean made small talk while the drug wormed its way in. “Hey, buddy…you okay?”

He unzipped his hoodie and breathed slowly. “Yeah,…just…hot…you know?” 

“Wanna get some air?”

Dean set their glasses on the jukebox and steered the kid toward the back door. His cock was hard and it was pressing into his jeans. The night air did little to help. The kid swayed and Dean steered him away from the door.

“I shouldn’t be this drunk.” He staggered into the alley, leaned against the wall.

“Here, let’s get this off.” Dean finished unzipping the hoodie and pulled it off. “That help?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He slid a little and Dean moved in, hands on the kid’s hips.

“Easy. I’ve got you.” He kissed him then. The kid’s mouth fell open, then he was pushing at Dean. “Come on…let’s play nice.”

“You…I…” He was panting. Dean reached between his legs for his cock. It was slightly hard, but it got harder when he pressed into it.

“See, I knew you wanted me.” Dean kissed him again, pressing him against the wall. “You want me to slid my dick up inside you and make you come.”

“I…what?” The drug had him relaxed and lax and pliant. Not exactly what Dean wanted, but it was a start. 

“You want me to put you on your knees like a dirty whore and fuck you. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He kissed the kid again, pulling his baggy jeans down and fisting his cock until it was full and hard. “That’s a good boy.” 

Dean guided him down to his knees and unleashed his own cock. “Open your mouth.” The kid did what he was told and Dean slipped his cock inside it, slicking it up and warming it up before he shoved the kid forward. 

He went down easy, his ass in the air. He wasn’t lying when he said he was tight. “Fuck!” Dean pushed inside him with only his spit for lube. The kid was going to know he’d gotten fucked when this was over. 

He felt strong, buzzed and he fucked into the kid like he hadn’t gotten laid in months, leaving bruises all over his back and ass. The kid whimpered, tried to pull away, but Dean reached under him, stroking his cock until he came, then renewed his assault on the once-virgin ass. 

His cock didn’t begin to soften after he finally came, and if anything he felt more aroused, more hungry for it. He pushed the kid down. He needed a challenge. A fight. He was panting as he leaned over the kid and mumbled the spell that would blur his memory even better than the drug. He’d remember he’d been fucked, but not what Dean looked like or that he maybe didn’t want it. 

Dean patted his head. “Good little whore. Maybe I’ll send Sammy out to have a taste.”

***

Sam knew what he was doing. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t get in trouble for it later. This wasn’t one of the wannabe hunters, not a kid with something to prove. This guy had been around. Sam could smell it on him.

Probably lost someone close to him. Sam eyed him up while he sipped on a beer. Maybe his daughter. He looked like the type. 

The man looked up at him. Haggard. Worn around the eyes. Already knew Sam was trouble. Already knew and was half way to not caring.

The bartender delivered the shot Sam had paid for and the hunter looked up at him. Sam smiled and lifted his beer.

He’d had a hard hunt, Sam could tell. Maybe not in the last twenty four hours, probably not around here, but he was stiff and sore…maybe hurt. He liked the hurt. Reminded him he was still alive. Or maybe it was penance for the fact that she wasn’t. 

Sam didn’t care. He liked guys who liked it to hurt.

Sam tossed off his beer, scanned the room for his father. He was over in the corner with some hunter. Dean wasn’t back yet from the alley. Sam looked at the hunter, waited for his eyes, then casually stepped away from the bar, headed for the men’s room.

He felt the hunter move, slowed his pace, slipped into the men’s room and up to a urinal. He was already hard, just the thought of it…of this guy wanting it, was enough.

He couldn’t bleed him, not here, not now. Didn’t mean he didn’t want to though. He’d have to be careful. 

The door opened and the man looked at Sam. Just looked. Sam’s cock twitched.

“You’re one of the Winchester boys.”

Sam nodded, smiling. “I’m Sam.”

“Hear you boys are trouble.”

“Is that what you hear?” Sam grinned, his cock still hanging outside his jeans. “Thought maybe you’d heard we like to fuck.”

The man’s face hardened, but he didn’t turn away. “Heard you like to fight. Kill stuff. And yeah, that you’ll fuck nearly anything that moves.”

“And some that don’t move at all.” Sam added, moving in close, crowding him against the sink. “So what is it you came in here for? Fighting? Killing? Or Fucking?”

The man’s face was red, his body tight. Sam cupped a hand to his groin. “Yeah, thought so.”

Sam didn’t waste time, got him turned around and his jeans undone, his hand filled with the man’s cock. 

“Maybe we should…lock the door?”

Sam bit his shoulder lightly through his shirt. “Won’t be that long.” He yanked the jeans down, exposing a white ass. Well, white where it wasn’t bruised. Sam pushed the shirt up. The bruising was extensive, around his sides, down his back and onto the top of his ass. 

Sam smiled, predatory and dark as his fingers pressed in against the bruises. The hunter closed his eyes and swayed a little. Sam entered him fast and hard, fucking in deep enough that the man rose to his tip toes. Sam’s thumbs played over the bruises, eliciting varying sounds from the man. 

He resisted the urge to do more damage. It would only get him whupped later if he mangled a hunter. They were supposed to be laying low.

“Harder.” The hunter spoke through clenched teeth, his face only inches from the mirror. Sam was happy to oblige, tightening his grip on the man’s hips and pulling him into each savage thrust until he started to come.

He pulled out, spewing sticky strings over the man’s ass and backing away to tuck himself in. 

The door opened and Sam looked up. “Oh, there you are.” Dean said. “Dad’s looking for you.”

Sam grinned. “Just…you know…mingling.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean’s eyes were dark, his nostrils flaring at the scent of come. The hunter was pulling his jeans up, looking away. Sam pushed him forward against the sink.

“Hold up there…I’m thinking maybe my brother needs something more than the pretty boy he took to the alley.” His eyes swept over Dean, over the tense body, the hard cock that his jeans did nothing to hide. “Do you Dean? You want something more?”

“You know Dad’s going to kill you, right?” Dean asked as he moved in closer. He was eyeing Sam, not the hunter. “Not supposed to dick around Sammy.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow, sensing that his brother had no interest in the hunter, but definitely needed more. He let go and the hunter fled the room. Dean crowded Sam into the wall before he kissed him, rubbing his groin against Sam’s. “Gonna get a whipping when Dad finds out.”

Sam nodded. He had no doubt his father would find out. He had no doubt Dean would tell him. Because as much as Dean liked pain, he liked watching their father dish out pain nearly as much. “He’s gonna make you bleed Sammy.” Dean whispered into his ear.

Sam shivered, felt his cock twitch as Dean’s hand covered it. “I’m gonna lick it up, eat you up…”

Dean wasn’t often aggressive, not with Sam…and something about it was really fucking hot. Sam hissed as Dean’s hand squeezed his cock, then pushed his brother away. “If you think you can.”

Dean slammed Sam back into the wall. “Oh, I can baby brother. Can, will…make you beg for more.” His kiss was nearly violent, pressing Sam back into the wall. 

“Dean, off your brother, we’re leaving.” Their father’s voice rolled around the room and Dean pulled away, but his hand closed on Sam’s neck and he shoved him toward the door. John’s eyebrow raised, but he didn’t say anything, just stepped aside so Dean could push Sam past him.

***

Sam was expecting the punishment, so he wasn’t surprised when his father dragged him into the house and up to the bedroom without really saying much of anything.

“Naked. Now.”

Dean sauntered into the room behind them and John turned to him, drawing him in to a slow, leisurely kiss. Sam stopped half way to naked, watching. Dean’s smile was dangerous, his eyes flooded with dark, black evil. “Need help getting there, Sammy?”

Sam watched him come, watched his father’s face fill with lust and pride. 

Dean shoved Sam onto the bed and ripped his jeans off him, tearing the denim and leaving long scratches on Sam’s legs. “Naked, Sam.” Dean said, his eyes glittering. “Daddy’s gonna whip you.”

John was suddenly behind Dean, pulling him tight against him. “No. I’m not. You are.” John said, his hand cupping to Dean’s cock. “I’m going to watch.”

Dean leaned back, kissing his father before turning back to Sam. “Hope the hunter was worth it.”

Sam shuddered and finished pulling off his shirt. His father’s beating would be brutal, but quick. Dean though…Dean liked to take his time. “On your knees, Boy.” John said roughly, moving away to sit in the chair across the room.

Sam did as he was told, kneeling in the center of the bed. Dean’s hand stroked over his skin, down to his naked ass and back to his neck. “You need me to get the restraints, Sammy?” Dean asked, his soft voice belaying the excitement Sam knew was flushing through him. “Can you be still?”

Sam shook his head lightly. “Just get on with it.” He’d probably beg for them before it was over…because he wasn’t allowed to touch, had to take whatever Dean dished out…and eventually he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

Dean’s gently caressing hand grew hard, grabbing the back of Sam’s neck and forcing him down. “Fine.” 

His hand slapped down, bare, open, slapping against Sam’s ass until it flushed warm and red. It wasn’t properly painful. This was more about humiliating Sam.

“You missed a spot.” John’s voice rumbled over the floor to them.

Sam couldn’t see him, but Dean’s hand smoothed over Sam’s skin, seeking out the one place that hadn’t turned pink. His slap was stinging and Sam could almost imagine him looking to their father for approval.

Dean’s hand left him and Sam watched him move to the trunk by the nightstand. He rummaged for a few minutes before coming up with a satisfied sound. He held up the paddle. Solid wood. Polished and well used over both their asses over the years. 

John made an agreeing sound.

Sam cracked his neck and tried to relax. Tensing up only made it hurt worse. Dean wasted no time, cracking the paddle against him fast, hard enough that Sam was thrown forward. Five blows, then Dean moved around the bed to the other side. 

“Gonna bruise you Sammy.” Dean growled. 

“Do it.” Sam pushed his ass back and Dean laid into his other cheek. Five blows, then lower, over his thighs.

“Stop.” John was out of the chair, his hands on Sam’s thighs, pulling his legs apart. His hand was rough against sensitive skin, rougher still as it toyed with Sam’s cock, finishing the job of making it hard and leaving it hanging between his spread thighs. “Now the thighs. Make sure his balls know you’ve been there.”

John’s presence faded and Sam licked his lips in anticipation. He could feel their eyes, feel Dean watching for him to relax. The paddle whistled through the air and crack against his thigh, just the tip kissing his balls. It brought tears to his eyes and his hands fisted in the pillow under his head. 

“Fuck.” He cursed into the pillow, hoping it would muffle the sound. Dean heard though and his next blow hit Sam’s balls and cock more than his thighs.

Sam gasped as his cock spasmed, his come spilling under him. His father was chuckling. “That didn’t take much.”

Dean barely waited for the orgasm to pass before he moved and hit him again. Over the other thigh, down to his knee. Sam was chewing on the pillow to keep his mouth in check. The more noise he made the worse the beating would get. 

“Told you he was a bad boy.” Dean said, dropping the paddle on the nightstand and moving back to the trunk. When he came back to the bed he shoved a large butt plug into Sam’s ass with no lube. Then he was grabbing Sam’s cock and snapping on a cock ring.

“Dean…” Sam looked up over his shoulder at his brother who smiled viciously.

“Need the gag already, Sammy? Maybe it’s been too long since you got a proper whupping.”

“Don’t tease your brother, Dean.” John said. “Teach him.”

“Yes sir.” 

His next trip to the trunk brought out one of the canes…thin, clear plastic. Sam closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He’d introduced his brother to the exquisite pain of a cane years before and Dean had grown to love them.

The first blow fell over Sam’s already red and stinging ass, and a series of them rained up his back and down his thighs, endlessly stinging, burning and before Dean was done, Sam’s lips couldn’t hold in the grunting.

His cock was hard again as Dean stopped his beating. Sam was panting, but so was Dean as he reached for the butt plug, pulling it out before shoving it back in.

“I want to see him bleed.” John said, suddenly closer to the bed. Sam spared a glance up to find him wrapped around Dean from behind, his hand unzipping Dean’s jeans and cradling Dean’s hard cock. “Want to watch him bleed while you fuck him.” He kissed over Dean’s neck, then shoved him toward the bed.

“You heard him Sammy…gonna make you bleed.” His fingers pulled the butt plug out and Sam didn’t see where it landed. He wasn’t empty long though. The bed shifted and Dean’s cock pressed into him.

Sam never saw the knife, but he felt its bite, carving into his skin. Dean fucked up into him, his mouth closing over the bleeding wound, his tongue delving into Sam’s flesh. At first the fucking and the sucking were slow, almost gentle.

“You’re supposed to be punishing the boy.” John’s voice slithered over them and Dean carved a second wound. He pushed in deep and held himself inside Sam while he smeared blood over his back. He leaned forward, offering a bloody finger to Sam, who sucked it in, clenching ass muscles around his brother.

“Like that?” Dean asked, but Sam wasn’t sure who he was asking until he realized his father was there, by the bed. He could hear them kissing as Dean renewed his rutting.

Together they licked blood up, their tongues tangling together, their fingers pressing into the wounds until Sam hissed. When Dean finally came and pulled out, John took his place while Dean stripped out of what was left of his clothes and went back to the trunk.

Sam actually screamed when his father dug his nails into the wounds Dean had made and John chuckled. “Maybe it’s time for that gag.”

***

It was almost dawn. John figured Sam had learned a lesson. Maybe three or four. He stirred on the chair, waking Dean who had dozed in his arms. “Let your brother loose.”

Dean nodded, smiling as they stood and looked down at Sam. He’d ended up in the restraints John had made for them when they were still teens, strong enough to hold any demon in a human body, perfect for the times they needed discipline. He was gagged too. They couldn’t afford to have the neighbors calling the cops on them.

His super-sized dildo stuck up out of his bruised and welted and bloody ass, and his cock was red with need, despite the very big puddle of come it was pressed into. 

Dean moved to the bed, murmuring to Sam as he undid the cock ring and Sam’s come flooded out of him in an impressive stream. John stretched and cracked his back. “I’m going to get some sleep. Check up on your girl before you do.”

Dean nodded and continued the process of releasing Sam from his bonds. John knew Sam would recover fast. He always did. He appreciated the kid’s zeal and hunger, but sometimes he had to be shown who was in charge.

John moved out of the room and down the hall. He had to think of other things now. Like Azazel and the hunters. 

They were skeptical anytime he brought them information. He knew that. But they really would be helpful in keeping the coming hordes off their back. Azazel had to be figuring it out. They had nearly all the pieces. 

Any time now they’d come. 

John cracked his neck before falling to the bed. He was looking forward to getting his hands dirty.

***

“He’s up to something.”

Sam could hear them, even though they couldn’t see Sam. He wrapped the dark around him like a coat and inched closer.

“His information’s been good.” 

“Of course it has been.” Bobby Singer scowled at the other man. “Too good.”

He’d been tracking Singer since he hit Lawrence. His father was worried that the old hunter had figured it out. It was Sam’s job to figure out if he had, and deal with him. 

He was more inclined to just deal with him and not worry about what he did, or didn’t, know.

“I’m telling you, Caleb I don’t like it.” Singer circled the truck and pulled a book out of the cab. “I been watching them. That boy of his? Ever have him look you in the eye?” He shivered. 

“You got something more than a feeling?” Caleb asked as Singer put the book down on the tail gate of the truck.

“Maybe.” Singer pulled his hat off and scratched at his head. “I don’t know. It seems…far fetched.”

Caleb chuckled. “Right.”

Sam couldn’t see the book or what Singer was showing the other man.

“Wow.” Caleb wiped a hand over his face. “I mean…it’s not possible, right?”

Singer shrugged. “It would explain a lot.”

“You’ve hunted with him. More than once.” Caleb paced away and back again.

“I know. That last one…he bled that demon….like nothing I’ve ever seen, Caleb. Like he wasn’t human.”

“But what you’re suggesting…” Caleb pointed at the book. “What that is suggesting is that he’s…and his boys are…”

Singer was nodding. “Right. And he’s got half the hunting community running interference between his boys and the demon world…giving him all the space in the world to pull this off.”

Caleb shook his head. “It isn’t possible.”

Sam had heard enough. It was time to crash this party. He pulled the knife from his boot and inched around the wall that hid him from them. Caleb came his way and as he turned to pace back toward Singer, Sam emerged from the dark and sliced neatly through his throat, dropping him to the ground. Singer turned just before Sam got to him, a look of horror on his face.

He blocked Sam’s first strike, and Sam’s knife dragged over his arm. Sam laughed and followed as he backed off. “You’re the smart one, Hunter. How do you think this is going to end?”

***

Dean squinted toward the window as lights flashed. He rolled over and ran a hand down the skin of his girl. She opened her eyes, spread her legs. “Good girl.” Dean cooed to her. “But not right now. Check on the boy.” He watched her get up and move to the cradle near the bathroom door.

He got out of bed himself and went to the window. Sam was getting out of a truck, covered in blood. “Shit.”

They had two weeks left until the night of the ritual. Two weeks and Sam couldn’t keep control. He reached for the jeans he’d left on the chair He didn’t worry about the girl. She held the baby, rocking him gently, holding him to her breast to feed. 

Dean bounded down the stairs as Sam burst in the front door, dragging a bound and gagged Bobby Singer with him. “What the fuck?”

Sam was breathless as he pushed Singer to his knees. “He knows. I got another one in the truck. Dead/

“Fuck, Sam.”

“Dad told me to deal with him.”

“So you bring him here? Are you crazy?”

“We need to know if he told anybody.”

“So you can go kill them too?” Dean paced around the woozy looking hunter. “What did you do to him?”

Sam held up a baggie with a syringe in it. “Just a little cocktail to loosen his tongue. Help me get him to the bunker. Then I’ll get rid of the truck and the body.”

***

By the time Sam got back from dumping the body and the truck in places that no one would find for at least a few weeks, his brother and father were emerging from the portal, wiping the blood from their hands.

“Well?”

John shook his head. “He isn’t talking.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that happens when you kill them.”

John slapped Dean. “He wasn’t talking anyway. I put him out of his misery.”

“What now?” Sam asked.

John crossed to where the girl was holding the infant. He lifted the child from her. “We stay alert. We get ready. And we kill anyone or anything that gets between us and what we want.”

***

Three days. It was just three days. Seventy-two hours.

Dean’s nostrils flared as Sam pulled the girl out of the room. He could smell her. Could smell him. He knew he’d never see her again. Sam would finally get to have his way with her.

While Dean was locked up in this room with no outlet for his already growing hunger. His father chuckled and that made it worse.

“You going to be able to keep your hands off yourself?” John asked, crowding Dean up against the wall.

He was already caged, his cock held limp in plastic underneath his jeans. “I’m fine.”

“I can smell you.” His father whispered in his ear. ”We’re close Dean. No one has been this close, not in centuries.”

“I know.” Dean’s mouth pressed to John’s stealing a kiss before John stepped away.

John tossed the bladder of demon blood on the bed. “That’s all you get between now and then. Make it last.” He went to the door then, taking one last look around the room, then at Dean. “Holler if you decide you need help.”

Dean snorted. Any help he got from them would be less than helpful in the long run. It had been years since they’d gone more than a day or so without fucking one or the other…not to mention whatever playmates they found outside the family. 

He paced the room, looked out the window. At least the room had a bathroom. Dean could take cold showers…cool the needy heat of his human flesh. 

Three days. Seventy-two hours.

He could handle it.

He heard his father installing the locks and crossed his arms. It wasn’t like he had no self control. He knew the stakes. 

His father’s voice rumbled under the door, telling Sam to take the girl into the bedroom so Dean couldn’t smell them. Too late.

Dean started pulling his clothes off and headed into the bathroom. The water poured out cold and he stepped in, shivering.

 

“Please.”

Her voice was tiny, soft. Sam rolled his head on his pillow to look at her.

She was framed between them, between Sam and his father, the child cradled to her breast. It was the first time he’d heard her speak in months.

His hand stroked over her arm, over the baby’s head, down to her belly. Her legs fell open instinctively, as much as they could with the bodies around her.

It was early morning. Dean’s birthday. She probably knew her life was over.

Sam’s hand slid down to the sloppy mess between her legs. They’d gone at her pretty hard the night before, both him and his father. His fingers moved inside her and she closed her eyes. They could hear Dean pounding at the walls while they fucked her.

He pulled his hand out of her. He had work to do, and if he was still laying around in bed when his father woke up, he’d get a whupping. Again. He rose up on one elbow and kissed her nose. “Not long now. It’ll be over soon.”

Her eyes closed, a single slow tear leaking from it.

Sam smiled and got up. It was time to start getting ready. He pulled on a pair of pants and headed downstairs. 

The hunters and demons had gone to war in the last two weeks, a war waged across Lawrence. All the while the Winchesters laid low and got ready. While both sides searched for them and the planned location for the main event, Sam and his father had worked in secret. 

There were, after all, rules. Dean was not allowed to touch any of the ritual implements before entering the ritual. Nor was he to have set foot on the soil where the ritual would take place. It had to be sanctified soil. Sacred. Blessed.

Sam unlocked the door to the basement. All over town, they searched and held vigils in churchyards and cemeteries. He flicked on the lights and headed down the stairs. At the bottom, he pushed through the heavy curtains that helped contain the noise. All the walls and ceiling were sound-proofed.

On the table in the center of the basement room was the trunk with all the gathered elements of the ritual. He’d come back to that. He moved past the table to the small door, pausing to light a lantern before moving into the dark space beyond. 

They hadn’t had time to lay in proper stairs, just a dirt and rock ramp of sorts. He moved down it into the space they had created just for tonight. It was barely as tall as he was and no more than fifteen feet in diameter. The dirt that had once filled it now filling the bunker where Dean had kept the girl.

The floor of the cavern was filled with soil from under an old church that was being torn down a few miles away. The altar at the center was built from tombstones. The sacrificial altar that sat at the south end of the space was carved from a single oak tree.

Pity the sacrifice had to be a virgin. Sam swung the lantern around, holding it up to cast light on the cage in the corner of the room. The girl inside shrank back from the light, pulling her legs back. She was young, maybe sixteen. It was getting harder and harder to find virgins.

His father had brought her down the night before. Dean was going to pop a vein when he saw her. Dean’s type. Petite, pretty, brunette. Yet another of the trials. To get her onto the altar and bleed her without taking her first, and after three days of celibacy, that was going to be a challenge.

Sam moved to the other cage. This one was all Sam. They needed the virgin’s blood to appease the powers that would be raised. They needed the heart of a pure man for Dean to consume. Sam squatted down and banged on the cage until the priest inside it lifted his head. “How you doing, Father?” Sam asked, his voice filled with false sincerity.

“What are you?”

Sam had picked him because he was young and pretty and gifted. Had a touch of the sight. Not enough to see what Sam was, but enough to know he wasn’t human.

“Think of me as your escort….to hell.” Sam said with a smile, letting his eyes flood with black. “If you got praying to do before you die, now’s the time to get to it. Once the birthday boy gets down here, it’ll be too late.” 

He left the priest staring after him, his mouth moving in silent prayer. His Latin was pretty, even if it stung a little. Sam had work to do.

***

He emerged into the kitchen a few hours later to find his father laying out the other things they’d need on the table.

“All set down there.” Sam moved to the sink to wash the dirt from his hands, hissing as the water hit blisters left from the sanctified ground.

“Good.” Sam watched as his father sorted through the materials and tools they would need to defend the house. It was going to get uncomfortable, but they’d been working at building up a tolerance to the pain. They would lay out a circle of iron shavings mixed with salt. That would keep out the lower level nuisance demons that would likely be the first wave.

Closer in to the house they would construct a circle of consecrated soil and inside that circle, Sam and John would patrol with guns loaded with salt, holy water, not to mention the Colt and a few other choice weapons that had been…modified. It was said the Colt could take down even a demon as strong as Azazel. 

Sam wasn’t sure about that.

He checked the clock. It was almost eleven. “What about the girl?”

John grunted. “Took care of her. The baby’s asleep. Should sleep until it’s time.”

“Dean?”

John looked at the ceiling above him. “He’s been quiet. Best to let him be until we’re ready.”

Sam nodded. “Then let’s get ready.”

The skies were dark as they donned the protective gear that would keep them from burning as they laid out the protective circles. John worked the outer ring, pouring out shavings and salt from giant bags while Sam did the same with the inner one, hefting giant bags of dirt left over from preparing the ritual space.

It took longer than he expected and by the time it was over he was sweating and he could feel Dean’s eyes staring down at him from the window. Sam wiped at his forehead and looked up.

“Well?” 

His father looked as hot and uncomfortable as he felt. “I’ll keep watch, you go get Dean ready.” Sam said, setting down his shovel in favor of the shotgun.

***

Dean paced the small room. It was almost time. He could feel it. Then again, he could feel…everything. He felt the girl die. He felt the baby asleep in the cradle in the room down the hall. The girl in the basement. The priest. His body craved contact…touch…and damn but he wanted to fuck something.

The demon’s blood was gone. The last of it burning inside him. The room around him was trashed, holes dotting the walls from banging out his frustration. Any minute now, his father would be at the door…would be stripping him, releasing him and taking him to the place where he would be transformed.

The skies outside the window were growing darker…a storm coming. And it wouldn’t be rain and thunder. It would be blood and demons and a battle unlike anything this town had ever seen.

When it was over, Dean Winchester would be a whole new man…or something. Something no one had seen in a thousand years.

He breathed out slowly, pulling back on the rampant lust for flesh and power. His father was just outside the door. Dean could taste him. He was fighting for control now too.

After three days Dean knew he stunk of lust and need, and his father was battling through it. They couldn’t fuck this up, or Dean would be getting a one way ticket to hell, and Azazel’s fury.

The door opened and his father stood in the open frame, his eyes dark, inky black, his fists clenched, his face a snarl.

Dean nodded and John moved into the room.

“We’re ready.” His voice was dark, his hands heavy as they moved to Dean’s shoulders. He didn’t even try to remove the shirt, just ripped and it fell apart in his hands. He yanked on the sweat pants and Dean stepped out of them, holding his hands behind his back to keep himself from grabbing John.

The leather cuffs lay on the bed and John moved to those next. Dean stood and waited. He had to let his father do it. He wasn’t allowed to touch them. He held out his wrists first. John fastened them on, then worked the ones for Dean’s upper arms. He did the ankles next, dropping to one knee.

John licked his lips as he raised the thigh cuffs, his eyes on Dean’s caged cock. Dean clenched his teeth. It was straining against the plastic, it wanted to be inside his father’s mouth…wanted the heat, the slip-slide of wet tongue and lips. John buckled the cuffs on and stood.

Dean dragged air into his lungs and stepped back, seeking something like control. 

John’s hands fumbled in his pocket for the key that held the cock cage shut. Dean gasped as he was released, his cock springing to hardness and dribbling. His father chuckled. “Don’t have to ask you if you are.” 

His hand closed on Dean’s neck, turned him to face the door and pushed. They stopped at the second bedroom. John went inside, emerging with the child. He put the baby in Dean’s arms. It didn’t cry or fuss, just lay quietly.

Dean’s breathing was ragged, harsh as they went down the stairs. They didn’t stop, didn’t pause. He could smell them stronger now as his father led him into the basement…could feel the wards Sam had already started…He dragged in air through his nose and stopped at the door to the ritual space.

“Your brother has it ready. We’ll be outside.” His hand let go of Dean’s neck. “Don’t have to tell you to get it right…won’t be me who punishes you if you don’t.”

“No, sir.” Dean responded, his hand on the door.

“Make me proud, Boy.” John stepped away then. 

Dean opened the door and stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. A single lantern spilled a small yellow light at the bottom of the grade. Just enough light to get him started. 

The dirt and gravel slid under his feet, but it was nothing compared to the way the sanctified dirt would feel. He stopped just shy of the circle, his eyes skimming over the set up.

Sam had down an outstanding job.

Dean inhaled deep…he smelled fear and desperation...the priest was reciting Latin in a string of words broken by sobs. Dean turned to look at him. He was crying and had pissed himself. He cocked his head and moved to the cage. He reached through the bars to pet the priest’s face. “Easy now, it’s almost over.”

In the center of the space a small cradle awaited the child. Dean prepared himself for the pain and took the first step. It stung, the holy ground beneath his feet, and he knew it would only get worse with prolonged contact. He moved to the cradle and nestled the baby into it. 

Too bad the boy was destined for…well, Dean wasn’t entirely clear what would happen to the kid. He almost liked the idea of being a father. Of course, the kids that would come after this little ritual would be stronger and better, so it wasn’t really a loss.

He stood and gathered himself. It was time to begin. And for that, he needed both the priest and the girl in the circle. He went to the priest first. He opened the cage and reached in for him, pulling him out and up. The smell of him was nearly overpowering. The smell of goodness, sweet…and mixed with his fear and the soiled smell of his sweat and piss and Dean shuddered before forcing him into the circle.

“On your knees.” Dean pushed him down beside the altar. “You’re not going to try to run on me, are you?”

“Please,”

The priest was going to be trouble. Dean sighed. He pushed the priest onto his ass and reached for his legs. Snapping both ankles would keep him from running.

The man screamed in pain and Dean chuckled before heading for the girl. She cowered in the back of the cage. “Oh come on. It won’t be that bad.” He reached for her, growling in frustration when she slipped away. Finally, he got a hand in her hair and yanked.

She was crying and flailing as he dragged her out. If he thought the priest smelled good, the girl was delectable. He pulled her to him, smelling her hair and pressing his naked body against her.

“Too bad the rules say you have to be virginal…I’d love to get up inside you.” 

She trembled. “Please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t…”

“Shhh…” He pressed a finger to her lips. “You won’t feel a thing.”

At least not after he slit her throat. “You’re a pretty thing. Do you know that?” Dean got her moving and up to the sacrificial altar. He lifted her up and gently laid her back. “See, nothing to it.” He caressed her face, wiping away tears with one hand while the other brought her arm up over her head. He secured it and went for the other one, all the while murmuring to her. Her breathing shuddered as he moved to her legs.

Now all he had to do was get her naked. He lifted the knife from the main altar. It was a wicked thing, with nine inches of blade. In the dark he misjudged and her scream when he nicked her skin made his cock twitch. The smell of blood added to the mix and he had to back away, squeezing his cock tight. 

He breathed through it, then turned back to her. She was sobbing now. He backhanded her. “Shut up.” 

He finished filleting her clothing and left her there. He had things to do before he could bleed her. He’d just have to deal with the smell of her. He moved to the altar then, setting aside the knife and picking up the box of matches. It was time to finish the warding process Sam started.

His feet were starting to really burn. And it was just the beginning. He move to the first of the black candles and began the chanting as he lit the match. Thirteen black candles. By the time he completed the circle his feet were smoking. 

He ruffled the hair of the priest who seemed to have fallen into a stupor. The first step was complete. He breathed through the pain. It was nothing compared to what would come later. He turned to the sacrificial altar and its surrounding circle of seven white candles. Purity.

He grinned and moved with the matches to the girl. This chant was more complicated. It dedicated the altar and the girl and the blood he would shed to the dark forces that were the beginnings of all evil…a gift of purity perverted.

His hands shook as he lit the candles. His concentration wavered when she looked at him, her mouth moving, though no words came out. He could see her with his cock shoved in her mouth. He closed his eyes and worked harder. 

As he finished the circle, the ground rumbled above him. He imagined that meant the war had begun above. He went quickly then to the infant and the candles around him. Three red candles…marking the child.

Dean licked his lips and started the new set of words, lighting the candles. 

The stage was set. It was time to commence with the trials, prove his worthiness before calling forth the darkness.

***

***

“Watch your side Sam.” John called as he cocked the shotgun in his hand. So far nothing had come close to getting through, but they couldn’t let down their guard.

“He thinks he can dig under.” Sam said, a chuckle in his voice.

“I see him. Just make sure he can’t.”

Sam had a water cannon in his hands, loaded with holy water. He stepped out of the shadow of the house and started firing once he reached the edge of the inside circle. They couldn’t cross it easily, but Sam cozied right up to it and fired the gun, spraying the demon outside the outer ring.

It screamed and fell backwards, shaking the ground.

Sam laughed and stepped back. 

John glanced up at the sky, judging the time from the sun’s position…or what he assumed was the sun’s position. If Dean was on schedule, he’d be getting ready to gut the priest.

 

The scream was deafening, at least until Dean put his hands into his chest, then it became sort of a rumbling, gurgling sound…wet and bloody. Sam might have preferred the screaming…but Dean was rather partial to this…especially when he gripped the edges of the rib cage and pulled.

Bones cracking and blood burning over his fingers.

The priest’s eyes went hard…cold…staring up at Dean with something that might have been forgiveness…if Dean believed that sort of thing. The knife made quick work of the veins and arteries and Dean lifted the heart, still hot, soft and vulnerable…if he squeezed just a little, it would burst open like some ripe fruit.

He stood, blood painting his naked flesh as he left the priest’s carcass on the ground and moved to the altar. He pushed against the muscle in his hand with one thumb, hissing in pleasure as it broke the surface and blood oozed from it. He pulled his thumb loose and poured the contents of the heart into the chalice.

The chalice was already half full of holy water, and the blood darkened as it filled the cup. In one bloody hand, Dean lifted it, the words of the next part of the ritual spilling out of him as he held up the heart and the cup.

He didn’t have to drink it all…just enough. It would be a fight to hold on, to not willingly abandon the body as it filled him. He finished the incantation and brought the chalice to his lips. It filled his mouth, burning and he clenched his teeth together, forcing himself to swallow…swallow…let the burn inside him, into his stomach.

He bit into the heart and swallowed that too…blood and flesh and more burning as it sank into him. Blood smeared over his face, hot and sticky and then he could feel the separation…the body becoming “other”. He forced in a deep breath and held on. This was his body. He’d been born to it.

Fuck.

He’d known it would hurt, but not like this.

He stepped away from the altar, the heart and chalice abandoned in the dirt as he clenched his stomach and fought to stay conscious.

***

The dark settled in prematurely, the storm knocking daylight out of the sky. They were surrounded now. Humans possessed. Vampires. An assortment of creatures that was impressive.

They clawed at the barriers.

So far it was nothing they couldn’t handle. Azazel hadn’t made an appearance yet, though John had no doubt that he would. He wasn’t a guy who gave up easily…and by all technicalities John and his boys still belonged to the bastard…at least until Dean finished.

Then Dean would be at least as powerful, if not more so, than the old bastard.

And Azazel wouldn’t be able to touch him…not without a fight.

A fight that John would love to see. It would be marvelously bloody.

John pulled his phone out of his pocket and thumbed the number of a hunter he knew was in town. “Hey Gordon, Winchester. Need your help…we’re surrounded. Some sort of demon gathering. Looks messy.”

He pointed Sam at a vampire digging at the outer circle, his hands smoking. Sam blasted him with holy water and he backed off. “Yeah, let me give you the address.”

He hung up and grinned. Marvelously bloody. “Back up is on its way.”

Sam nodded, moving to check the back of the house.

***

Dean moved through the next complicated steps. There were words and mixtures of herbs and stones and the smell of sulfur filled the air as he moved through it. Sulfur and the smell of his own skin continuing to burn.

He lifted the amulet, smeared blood over it. He moved to the cradle, murmuring the dedication, offering…the boy’s flesh for his own…the boy’s soul in place of his.

The baby’s eyes opened as Dean settled the amulet onto his chest. His skin was soft and white and the smear of blood from Dean’s hands stood out in stark contrast. He lifted a finger to the boy’s face, to his mouth. His lips turned red as he instinctively sucked. He was going to be a strong one.

Dean moved back to the center of the circle and the altar. It was time.

The cauldron smoldered. 

Dean’s skin was slicked with sweat, even before he started the hardest part. The candles in the closed space heated the air. It was about to get harder.

He held up the blade as he recited the words. Sliced neatly into the palm of his hand. It was getting harder to move around on his feet. They were burned and blistered. Still, he walked through the pattern Sam had drawn on the ground, bleeding his own blood onto the points before moving back to the cauldron.

The ground was shaking. Dirt fell from above him. Dean fell to his knees, grunting as the pain lanced through him from fresh flesh pressed into the holy ground. 

The girl was screaming again. Wind whipped over him, blowing against him. He fought, held himself upright. The noise filled the cavern, wind and wings and screams and he had to force the words out.

An invisible hand was on his neck, pressing him forward. Face first, naked skin pressed into the dirt. He fought, pressed back…but he wasn’t stronger…and it wasn’t until he relinquished, until he stopped fighting and laid himself down that the pressure released.

He gulped air as he finished the chant and one mammoth hoof appeared inches from his face. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. 

Some part of him had doubted it would work. The hoof hit the ground, shaking the cavern. It was black and darkly wet.

Nails racked over Dean’s back and he fought screaming as his flesh was torn. He had to be quiet until he was given leave to speak.

***

Sam felt the ground under him shake violently, knocking half the assembled throng to their asses. This was it.

A rush of adrenaline flushed through him. If Dean had gotten that far, chances were good he’d get through it. And if he got through, it Sam certainly could when it was his turn.

Outside the first ring, hunters were arriving, holy water and salt shots ripping through the enemy line. On his father’s side it looked like the ring had broken and they were trickling in to the second line.

So far he hadn’t seen any upper level demons. It kind of surprised him, unless they were just using the others to clear the way. And do far, no sign of Azazel. It made Sam wonder if maybe he wasn’t the big bad demon his father remembered him as.

***

“I am impressed.”

The voice rumbled through him, shook the world around them. Dean dared a glance up. 

Giant, muscular legs began with the massive hooves and rose up to powerful hips and a cock bigger than Sam’s giant dildo. He couldn’t see more than that without moving though.

Dean’s body hurt, though by now the individual pains were lost to the overall symphony of hurt.

“You may continue.”

Dean bowed his head and pushed up to his knees. Next was the girl. He stole a look as he got to his feet. The beast was huge. Arms as big as his legs ending in long black claws…a chest of dark red skin…horns…eyes as black as sin itself.

He swallowed and went to retrieve the knife from the altar, moving swiftly to the girl, who seemed to have fainted. He inclined his head to the Demon and began the words, holding the knife over her.

The first cut was between her breasts, down to her sex, Her eyes popped open and her body shook. Dean sliced open her neck, then both thighs. The smell of blood and internal organs filled the space and the beast moved closer, each step rattling the room. He sniffed the air, orgasmic pleasure on his face as he leaned in. “So beautiful.” He opened his mouth and tasted her, licking up her blood and lifting his face to look at Dean.

“You are one of Azazel’s brood.”

Dean nodded tightly. 

He stood upright, his horns scraping at the ceiling above them. “Azazel.” 

There was no flash of light, no puff of smoke, just a man suddenly beside the beast. No, not a man. Dean realized slowly. His eyes were yellow and his smile was anything but pleased.

“I should have killed you when you were still a boy.” 

The beast chuckled. “Come now Azazel, would you deprive me of one so inventive and beautiful…taste the sin in his skin…” He licked the air, as if he could taste Dean. 

“He is mine, as his father and brother are mine.”

“Were yours. This one is now mine. I have accepted his offering. He has but one trial remaining. I did not call you here to dispute his ascension.” He turned to the cradle. “He has brought you a replacement. Take the child.”

Azazel followed his eyes, then looked back at Dean. “I want to watch his final trial. If he survives, I’ll take the child and go.”

The beast smiled, and Dean shivered.

The last trial.

None of the texts said what it was. But the way the beast’s massive hand went to his dick, he got an inkling. He blew out slowly and held up his hands, bowing slightly. He could handle that. 

“Let’s do it then.”

***

John lifted the gun and fired. He had no idea how many hours had passed. The grass was burning, eating toward the house. At least fifteen hunters were on the other side, fighting toward him and Sam. He was starting to see the presence of Azazel’s brethren…he could feel them, trying to reach them.

He dropped the shotgun and its rock salt loads for the Colt. He only had about 8 rounds. But that should handle things. He took aim and fired, hitting the closest of them between the eyes.

Lightning flashed through the skies and in the eyes of the body the demon possessed as he fell to his knees. 

One less fucker to deal with.

***

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed. The beast’s claws dug deep into his shoulder as he was bent over the bloody carcass of the girl. His own cock was back to hard and wanting just anticipating what was coming.

His feet were kicked apart and there would be no prep, no lube, just his ass and that massive cock. He blew out as he felt it, pushing into him. 

It was going to rip him apart…and if it didn’t kill the body, Dean would be…immortal. It was a good thing Dean liked pain.

He gripped the edges of the sacrificial altar and tried to open himself up, will himself to relax under the endless onslaught of that cock inside him. His teeth clenched as his orgasm ripped through him and the beast laughed, shaking Dean and the altar. 

“He is an eager slut.” He said it to Azazel who was watching closely, probably hoping Dean couldn’t take it…Dean noticed that Azazel’s body was pretty aroused too. “Azazel is only jealous. No one has made it this far since he did.”

Dean swallowed as the cock pulled out of him. It felt like it was pulling his entire insides out with it. “He came three times before I finished with him.”

Dean didn’t think he’d survive three orgasms like this. Then again, as he breathed in, he could smell the girl and the blood and his come, feel the fire of the last of the demon’s blood inside him. Maybe two. 

The beast laughed again and quickened his pace. Those claws tightened in Dean’s shoulder and his arm spasmed. He lost his grip on the altar, his arm flopping uselessly against the dead flesh beneath him. 

The beast’s hand loosed him, stroked down over Dean’s back, painting him with his own blood. He pressed in and licked over the blood. He switched hands, the bloody one moving to press on Dean’s hip, the other moving to his other shoulder, digging in until Dean let go with that hand too.

“Fuck.” His arms lay boneless at his sides. He was shaking in pain and pleasure, his cock spewing again.

The smell of come was pungent and Dean was vaguely aware of Azazel stroking his own cock now. 

The room was quaking as the beast’s hooves beat the ground with every thrust into Dean. His ass was wet and hot with blood. It oozed out of him and down his thighs. His knees gave out and the next thrust pushed him into the wood of the altar, his cock banging against it painfully. His vision was darkening.

He was going to pass out. He bit into his lip, trying to focus. He couldn’t come this far and fail. Air hissed into him and out again. He could taste blood. He just had to hold on. Just a few more minutes…or so he hoped.

***

The elder demons were moving away now. Four of them lay dead from the Colt. The ground was shaking almost rhythmically.

Sam moved closer to his father. Dean had better finish the fuck up. All this killing was making Sam hungry. And horny.

Sam saw Gordon moving through a horde of vampires, beheading them like it was nothing. There was something about it that was hot. When this was over he wondered if his father would let him have Gordon. 

“Head in the game.” John said, hitting his shoulder and then pointing at the hole in the ring where a black dog was getting through. 

“Right.” Sam hefted his gun and shot the thing full of iron and salt.

***

The roar and thrust brought dirt raining down on them, even as that cock slammed into Dean and emptied hot into him.

The beast stepped back and Dean slid to the ground.

It was over.

Funny. He didn’t feel any different.

Azazel made a strangled noise and reached for the child. “I’ll be seeing you Dean.” 

He was gone. Dean was vaguely aware that the room had gone dark, the candles blown out. The beast lifted him off the ground.

“Most impressive.” He smiled and it twisted his face. “I look forward to your brother’s turn. You will sleep now. When you wake you will be forever in this body. Your father and brother are yours now, as they were once Azazel’s. You will be glorious.”

He held the Seal of Dameron between them. Dean watched it spin, then it was coming toward him. It burned where it touched his skin, at the base of his collarbone, eating into him.

The beast dropped Dean to the ground and was gone. Dean’s eyes rolled closed. He wasn’t even going to try to fight the sleep settling over him. He was too tired.

***

The ground opened.

Everything stopped as the beast appeared.

No one there had any doubt what it was. Older than Azazel and his kin…the corporeal representation of evil itself. 

“It is finished. My protection is extended. Disperse.”

It turned to John and Sam. John pressed Sam’s gun down. Together they sank to one knee.

“You are no longer bound to Azazel. Neither are you free. The one who sleeps will awaken and you will be his.” 

His hand was on Sam, lifting him. He was smiling at him. “You will be tasty. I look forward to the day you summon me little one.” He dropped Sam and moved away, vanishing between the time John looked at Sam and back. 

All around them the bodies of demons and creatures vanished, leaving a handful of hunters getting shakily to their feet, looking around them.

“You gonna explain this Winchester?” Gordon asked as he stalked toward them.

John forced a chuckle and pushed Sam away to do some clean up.

“I guess I pissed someone off.” He pulled a hand over his face. He wanted to go check on Dean, but knew that he needed to handle this first. He’d actually expected them all to die in the fight, or figure out exactly what the fight was about. But he’d chosen Gordon because his black and white view of the world blinded him to an awful lot of gray. “Probably that sonofabitch I put down with Singer a few months back.”

Gordon stopped a few feet away, breathing heavy. “Where’s your other boy?”

John looked around him as if just noticing Dean’s absence. “He was here when it started. Probably around back.”

“What the fuck was that thing?” Gordon was still looking at him suspicious like. John could smell Sam’s desire, knew he wanted to fuck and bleed the hunter. Maybe it was time John let him.

John frowned and shook his. “Never saw anything like it.” And that was the absolute truth. “It ended it though…made them leave. I ain’t about to question that.”

The cloud cover was breaking up and stars started to sparkle in the skies above them. John sighed. “What a mess.” The ground was charred, torn up. Bloody in places. 

“Nice defenses.” Gordon hitched his thumb at the remnants of the protective circles. 

John shrugged. “Had a bit of warning they were coming. Thought it would be enough.”

Gordon snorted. “Me and my boys will help you clean up.” He shouldered his gun. “You got any beer?”

John smiled and clapped a hand to Sam’s shoulder. “Sure thing. Sam’ll get it right Sam? And check on your brother.”

Sam nodded once, his eyes raking over Gordon before he turned and went into the house. Dean was going to be hungry. The four hunters still standing would make a good offering. He’d let Sam have Gordon. It’d appease him.

***

Dean’s first thought was of hunger. A deep, gnawing hunger in his gut. He lifted his head. It was dark, but he could see perfectly.

He lay where he’d been dropped, in the center of the circle. 

His body was still sore, achy…but the searing pain had receded. In fact…he felt stronger, bigger. He stood slowly. He was marked, scarred, but mostly healed.

He cracked his neck.

He could smell his father…Sam…and others. It made his stomach rumble and his cock stir. He stepped out of the circle and waved a hand at it. Flames erupted, erasing the remnants of the ritual, the dead bodies and blood.

In the basement Dean paused. Sam had left him a robe. He pulled it on, his hand brushing over the mark on his chest where the Seal of Dameron had burned into him. The mark was hard, rough to the touch.

Dean smiled and headed upstairs. He needed food. He needed to fuck anything and everything he could get his hands on. He wanted to explore his new world.

***

Sam looked up from his amusement with Gordon’s skin. “Dean’s up.”

His father nodded from across the room. They were both spent, having amused themselves with Gordon while they waited. 

Gordon was…well, not spent, but certainly wouldn’t be complaining any time soon. Sam had bitten his tongue off when he wouldn’t stop cursing them. Sam found the noises he made after that endlessly entertaining, especially as he pulled strips of skin from Gordon’s back.

They could hear Dean downstairs, where they’d left the other hunters…trussed up and naked…offerings to appease the hunger and need. The smell moved to them…the sounds of Dean’s fucking and feasting. 

They would need to get moving soon. Before hunters started putting it together. They needed to lay low and bunker down for a while. 

John could hear Dean on the stairs now, coming toward them. Sam chuckled and leaned in to Gordon’s ear. “You thought I was the anti-christ, Gordie…wait till you see Dean.”

The door opened and for a moment John wasn’t sure it was actually Dean. He seemed bigger, his chest and shoulders larger. His skin was covered in blood and dirt and soot and come. The robe was open, showing off his cock which was hard and red and slick with blood and come. He looked Gordon over, then Sam, licking his lips.

“You holding out on me, little brother?” He moved into the room, lifting one hand. Gordon’s body lifted off the bed, suspended in air.

“No Dean….just waiting for you.”

Dean cocked his head, watching Gordon flail in the air. “Don’t need him.” Dean said and Gordon went flying out the window, the sickening thud coming in through the window as he hit the ground.

He didn’t even look at John, but John’s body moved to him without any effort. Dean’s hand threaded through his hair and pulled his face in close. “He gave you to me…you’re mine now…” His kiss wasn’t hard though, not yet. John let his lips part, let himself melt into the kiss. He could taste the power. 

Dean dropped him and pulled Sam to him the same way. “You too…mine…” He kissed Sam and for a minute John thought Sam was going to fight, then he saw his son’s body go limp in his brother’s arms.

“You can’t imagine it Sam.” Dean whispered fervently. “The rush…fuck I feel like I could take on the world.”

John climbed to his feet, smoothing one hand up over Dean’s arm. “The world is ours anytime we want it Dean. But we need to start slow.”

Dean grinned at him. “Gonna build me an army. Gonna leave a trail of babies across the world…raise them up to fuck the world.” He pushed Sam toward the bed. “But right now I’m gonna fuck Sammy until he squeals.” 

John watched Dean push and pull until Sam was where he wanted him. Dean’s cock pushed into Sam hard and fast. Sam’s hands fisted in the filthy sheets and John backed off, stroking his own hard on. Dean’s hand reached for him though, and John came, Dean’s hand closing around his cock and pulling until John was kneeling on the bed and Sam’s mouth was closing around him. 

Dean petted down Sam’s back. “That’s it Sammy…suck him good. That’s my good little slut.” 

John could see bruises all ready forming on Sam’s skin where Dean’s hand held him. Sam’s mouth stretched around John’s cock, his tongue cupped against it. John grunted as Dean’s body pushed Sam into him. He fisted a hand in Sam’s hair and pulled him back, leaning down to kiss him before letting him resume his sucking. 

Dean roared as he came, shoving Sam forward as he pulled away and left Sam dripping come. He staggered backwards, his cock still hard. He watched as Sam’s hands came up to hold John down while his mouth worked him over and Dean grinned as John yelled out and fucked up into Sam as he came. 

“I’m gonna shower. Load us up. I want to get out of this shit hole.”

***

Epilogue

Dean Winchester was well aware of how the hunting community saw the Winchesters. Their father was the cunning one, competent and efficient, never took a job he couldn’t finish…even if no one was ever sure exactly how he got it done. 

Sam was the possessive one, unpredictable, volatile…something was very not right with the youngest Winchester the whispers said. The way he touched his brother, the way he leaned into him and whispered to him, the way his hands were always there. 

Dean, however, was the quiet one, the one who smiled and girls swooned…the one who followed his father around, who listened and stayed in the background. The one who let his brother drag him along, the one who sat quiet beside his father, the one whose biggest crime was the way he seduced anything that he took a fancy to.

Some might even have pitied him.

Dean rather liked it that way. He sat in the corner booth, Sam all but in his lap. His father was at the bar, talking business with the woman behind it. 

A year had passed since they’d left Lawrence. A year in which Dean had grown stronger. “Go get me a drink.” Dean said quietly to Sam, his eyes tracking the young woman as she cleared a table and moved his way. She was fertile, and had already been giving him the eye. 

She’d be his third, if he took her. Three women who wanted him, who took what he offered them. Three women he’d left with his seed inside them. He could smell her lust as she came closer.

“Can I get you something, sugar?”

He smiled his most charming smile and leaned back, his cock hard and obvious in his jeans. “No, thanks darling…but I got something for you.”

She grinned and leaned over, giving him a good show of her chest. “I’ll just bet you do.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. “You Winchesters do everything in a pack?”

Dean shrugged. “I got a car outside.”

She was the daughter of a hunter, which should have cautioned him, but he wanted her, wanted to fill her…there was a perverse pleasure in fucking a hunter, even more so with putting a demon baby inside her.

She laughed. “My mother says I should stay away from you. That you’re trouble.”

“My father says I should shave more often and cut my hair shorter…but I don’t always do what he says.”

She ran a hand over his chin. “I like your hair…facial and otherwise.”

He watched her pull her hand back, then leaned toward her. “I want to fuck you in the back seat of my car while your mother and my father talk about some stupid piece of junk and my brother drinks himself into oblivion.”

Her lips brushed his cheek, her breath light against his skin. “Ten minutes.”

She slipped away as Sam came back with beer. Sam watched her, then grinned at Dean. “I’d love a piece of that.”

Dean slammed down the beer. “Maybe next time Sammy. After I get what I want.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Her? Dad’s gonna flip.”

Dean stood and pushed Sam to a seat in the booth.

“Let him. I’m in charge now, remember?”

Sam’s face paled a little and he nodded. The adjustment had been tough on him, and Dean imagined that in three years when Sammy made his ascension, they’d be back to fighting over who got the upper hand. “This shouldn’t take long. She’s ripe.”

Dean swaggered out the front door, feeling the eyes on him. Yeah, he knew what the hunting community saw in them…and for now, it suited him just fine. He’d learned over the last twenty-five years how to bide his time. 

The time was coming when the Winchesters would show them all…and in the meantime, Dean was going to enjoy himself.


End file.
